


Sloth Steve's School of Seduction

by Quarra



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Crack, Curses, Fluff, Grumpy Bucky Barnes, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic, Pining, Sexual Humor, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Swearing, They get the hugs, Troll Steve Rogers, UST, Vibranium is a bullshit metal, brief mention of suicidal thoughts, curses gone wrong, lots of crack, lots of fluff, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 18:20:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13769859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quarra/pseuds/Quarra
Summary: While on a mission, Steve gets hit with the curse of Sloth. It takes a little while for the full effects of the curse to manifest, but Bucky is really more annoyed than worried.After all, how bad could it be?





	Sloth Steve's School of Seduction

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a ficlet challenge on tumblr with the prompt "Sloth" and it quickly devolved into a full blow crack fic. It was a ton of fun to write an post, even if I should have been working on other things (::kick's self::). There are many other prompts going on and I hope to write up ficlets for a few more of them, free time allowing. If that happens, I'll add them to this series. Or you can find me on [tumblr](https://quarra.tumblr.com/). Also, [here is a link](https://quarra.tumblr.com/post/171155440219/ficlet-challenge-prompt) to this prompt's specific post, if you want to check it out and see who else is doing the ficlet challenge!
> 
> Shout out to Needmorefiction for inspiring me on Steve's opinion of pants, and thanks to everyone on tumblr who liked, reblogged, and commented. It was fun! This is unbeta-ed, so if there are errors, please forgive me.

“What the fuck is wrong with Steve?” Bucky snarled, the doors slamming against the walls behind him as he stalked into the medical floor at Avengers Tower. 

Startled looks answered him all around. Natasha and Clint both had minor injuries, and were sitting down in a few chairs finishing with bandaging. Thor was getting his side stitched up by Bruce, while Sam looked on with arms crossed. Tony looked the worse for wear, bruises lining his face and trailing down his neck and side. 

“What do you mean, what’s wrong with Steve?” Natasha asked. She glared at him, and then flicked her eyes around the room to take in everyone’s reaction to the outburst. “He was fine when he got off the quinjet. Tired, but fine.”

“He was the only one of us who didn’t really get hit?” Sam raised one eyebrow. He and Bucky still didn’t quite get along, hell, none of the Avengers really got along _well_ with Bucky, but at least Sam made an effort to be non-hostile. Friendly, some people might say. Not Bucky, though. He was pretty damn sure that Sam was making an effort out of obligation. To Steve, maybe. Or maybe just to himself, so he could say that he tried. The fact that he felt obligated to be kind made Bucky want to spit nails. Fuck other people’s obligations. He’d rather sit alone than have people be kind to him out of pity. It probably wasn’t fair to think that, any of that, but when the fuck had life ever been fair?

“Really.” Bucky set his voice to the lowest growl he could, teeth bared in fury. Something was wrong and this was their fault. 

“Chill the fuck out Terminator,” Tony said, wincing between every word. “Captain Sass was fine all mission. His frisbee took all the hits, and hey! What do you know! Vibranium can absorb magic too. Thanks for asking about the rest of us by the way, we’re fine…”

Deathly cold settled over Bucky. _Magic._ Little flickers of past memories, jumbled and sharp, ran through his mind. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

The others must have seen how he froze, because Tony’s bitching tapered off and they all stared at Bucky in expectant silence. 

“Is there a problem here?” Clint asked.

“Vibranium doesn’t absorb magic,” Bucky said quietly, mind still racing. “It absorbs and reflects _force_. Other aspects of the spellcraft can still get through.”

Thor’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “How did you learn of this? I was told that magic is rare on Earth.”

Bucky licked his lips. His arm recalibrated nervously, the vibranium plates making a quiet _tick-tick-tick-tick_ , and he felt the weight of every single one of the weapons hidden on his person. But it wasn’t the Avengers he was reacting to. It was the half-memory of some long forgotten mission for Hydra. “Did you think Hydra only sent the Winter Soldier after regular folk?” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Fuck.”

Then he stalked back out. 

By the time he made it to the elevator, Clint, Sam, and Natasha were right behind him. 

“Steve’s floor,” Bucky said to the ceiling. 

“Pardon me, Sgt. Barnes, but Sir asked that I hold the door for him.” Jarvis sounded prim and calm as ever. Bucky bit back a sigh.

A few seconds later, Tony came limping up to the elevator, still settling a couple of shirts on over his battered torso. “Seriously, T-1000. Manners are important.” As soon as he got inside, the doors shut and they were on their way.

“What’s wrong with Steve?” Sam asked.

Bucky just grit his teeth and shook his head. 

Fucking magic. 

When they got to Steve’s floor (technically Bucky’s too, but he hated the idea of intruding, so it was always ‘Steve’s’ in his mind), they all piled out and made their way to the living room area.

“Whaaaaaaat the fuck,” Clint whispered. Bucky just twisted his mouth and nodded.

Clothes were _everywhere_. Hanging off the sofas and lamp shades. Trailing across the floor. There was a clear path of discarded red, white, and blue combat gear that meandered into the kitchen. Thick muddy foot prints were tracked all across the floor. There were deep marks where the shield had been tossed into the wall, rather than leaned gently on the couch as it usually was.

“Steve did this?” Sam looked incredulous. Probably still wasn’t as flabbergasted as Bucky felt. Fuck, Steve’s Ma would have skinned him alive for leaving a mess like this. “The same guy who wouldn’t let an international revenge and arson spree stop him from folding his clothes every night before bed? The same guy who washes every dish promptly after using it? The same guy who irons his fucking blue jeans?”

Bucky just frowned harder and waved them into the kitchen. Or what they once called the kitchen. 

Because right now the kitchen looked like it’d been the epicenter of a massive earthquake. Dirty dishes and clean dishes alike piled in various places, some broken on the floor. Empty food containers scattered around. Crumbs and sauce and who the fuck knows what else smeared and dripped. The fridge and freezer doors were both open, the insides gutted. Water dripped out of the tap, a steady stream of needless waste that normally would have left Steve frowning and rushing to fix. 

“How did he even make this much of a mess? We, like, just got back an hour ago?” Clint’s voice was soft with a mix of awe and shock. 

But that wasn’t quite the worst of it. Bucky led them back to the bedrooms. He still had his own, though more often than not he would slip into bed with Steve. The close proximity of his oldest and only friend helped keep the nightmares at bay, even if it meant that Bucky had to experience the sweet torture of being so close to Steve without touching him. 

The mud trail led right into Steve’s room. Bucky opened the door so the rest of the Avengers could see, but he didn’t step out of the way. Steve was compromised, somehow, and as much as Steve trusted these idiots, they still managed to get him home from a mission damaged. Fuck if Bucky was gonna let anyone close to Steve while he was messed up.

Because Steve was messed up, and it made Bucky feel like a whole hive of bees had nested in his stomach.

If the kitchen looked bad, the bedroom looked worse. Clothes, food, wrappers, and bottles of random shit were all over the place. There was a movie playing on the wall in front of Steve’s bed. The same bed Steve was currently cocooned inside of, snuggled up with several open bags of potato chips and…a bottle of lube?

Bucky ground his teeth. “I will ask again. What. The fuck. Happened. To Steve?”

Pregnant silence.

Of fucking course.

He sighed and tossed a murderous glare over his shoulder. “Stay.” Then he walked carefully over to the bed, stepping around the debris, and sat down next to the head end of Steve’s blanket burrito. 

“Steve. Hey, Stevie. Wake up a bit, huh? Your friends are here and they wanna talk.” Steve grumbled in his sleep and rolled over, wrapping himself more completely in the comforter. Bucky growled. Maybe back when he was a real person he would have had some patience for this, but right now he was at his fucking wits end. He grabbed the blankets, hauled Steve back around to face him, and then ripped the blankets down leaving Steve’s head and shoulders exposed. 

His apparently nude shoulders. 

Because of course Steve hadn’t put on clothes. 

“Buck, whaaaaaaaaaaaat?” Steve said, voice high and whiny. He rubbed his eyes. “I’m sleepin’ here, pal.”

“With bags of chips?” Bucky asked dryly.

“I was hungry.”

“And lube?” Because _what the fuck, Steve_.

“I was kinda horny? You know how fights go. Gets the blood going sometimes. Nice to take the edge off. Too tired to actually do anything though. I got all wrapped up and---” Steve yawned and tried to burrow back down into the blankets. “It was just so warm. Figured I’d just take a little nap.”

With that, Steve actually started to nod back off again, face still smeared with powdered BBQ flavoring from the chips. 

Bucky looked at the Avengers and gestured with both of his hands at Steve, as if to say, _what the fuck_ ? They all stood there frozen, jaws dropped. 

Great. With another sigh, Bucky re-positioned the now sound asleep Steve in the blankets. He didn’t need to be on his side any more, not now that the serum took away the breathing problems and the bad back, but that didn’t stop Bucky from arranging him that way. Strategic pillows got placed to keep Steve comfortable and the chip bags were removed from the bed. The lube he placed in the bedside night stand while he tried very, very hard not to think about Steve using it. 

“Jarvis, if he needs anything, let me know,” Bucky said quietly. 

“Of course, Sgt.”

“Get some rest, Stevie. We’ll get you sorted out soon.” Bucky couldn’t resist smoothing a hand down Steve’s hair, settling it into place. When Steve sighed happily and nuzzled into his hand, Bucky ground his teeth again. 

This was a spell. This wasn’t Steve. _Get your shit together, Barnes._

He shoved the Avengers farther down the hall and shut Steve’s door behind them.

“Did…we just see that?” Tony asked. “Is that actually Captain America? Paragon of Truth, Justice, and Flossing Before Bed?”

“So what was he ‘not really hit’ with again?” Bucky asked menacingly. 

Clint and Natasha exchanged troubled looks, while Sam and Tony just sat there blinking. 

“Sloth,” Natasha said. 

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her. Jesus fucking Christ getting information out of any of these fucking clowns was like pulling goddamn teeth. 

“The magician we were fighting was yelling something about being slow.” Clint hummed quietly for a moment, eyes cast downward while he thought about it. “Or, at least, I thought it was something like that. I figured it was, like, a slow spell. But maybe it wasn’t? Or maybe it was and it just got messed up?”

“That makes sense. Because there are two ways to slow someone down. First, is to make it impossible for them to move quickly. Second, make them not _want_ to move,” Tony said absently, tapping his fingers as he thought through the problem. 

“The vibranium in his shield must have mitigated the effects. Made the spell kick in after the fight was already done. Do you still have this guy on ice?” Bucky tried not to worry about this too hard. 

No matter what happened, at least Steve was home safe. 

Kind of.

“Shield has him, but he was, uhhh, incapacitated.” Tony grimaced. 

“We beat the fuck out of him,” Clint added. “I’d be surprised if he woke up any time this week.”

Sam just shrugged. “Dude had it coming.”

Bucky took a deep breath. 

A lazy as fuck Steve Rogers. He could deal with that, at least until the rest of the team figured out a way to undo this.

After all, how bad could it be?

\--

Turns out, pretty fucking bad. 

It had only been three days and already Bucky was contemplating a life of intrigue as an internationally wanted fugitive and assassin. Because anything was starting to look good compared to dealing with Steve’s fucking lazy ass.

“Buuuuuuuuuck, the TV remote is really far away!” Steve yelled from the living room. 

Bucky paused in picking up yet another pile of wrappers from the hallway to bang his head against the wall. Not too hard, because if he broke through the drywall and had to clean up after that too he really might actually shoot himself. 

“What’s your fucking point, Steve?” he yelled back. 

“Help!”

Steven Grant _Fucking_ Rogers, folks. Mr. I Don’t Need Help With Anything. Mr. I Can Storm The Base All By Myself. Mr. I Can Making It On My Fucking Own. 

But he needed help getting the TV remote. _Because it was too far away_. 

Fuck the bullet to himself, Bucky was going to fucking shoot Steve. 

Just as he was pulling a knife and trying to convince himself that he wouldn’t really do any damage to Steve, he’d just scare him a little, Jarvis interrupted. 

“Sgt. Barnes, Mr. Wilson is on his way up. He said he’s bringing dinner.”

“Thank god,” Bucky said quietly. 

Whatever twisted gnarl of mistrust and frustration he once had with Sam, it had all melted away under the stress of the past few days. The man was a damn saint, and Bucky was ready to fucking kiss him in relief every time he showed up. At this point, Bucky didn’t even care if it was only for Steve’s well being, because the sad remnants of Bucky’s sanity and temper had long since frayed away under the sheer weight of Steve’s laziness. 

It didn’t seem that bad at first. So Steve would lie around. Big deal. The guy needed a break. But it turns out, Steve was willing to get up just long enough to make the largest mess possible, and then he’d collapse back into the couch or his bed. 

The more charitable, patient side of Bucky thought that this might be Steve fighting off the effects of the spell. He’d muster up enough motivation to get some food, or something to drink, or another blanket. Then the spell would push back with force, and crush his will once again. But it never lasted for more than an hour and then Steve would be up wandering around again, dragging ass all over their floor. 

The part of Bucky that had to deal with Steve licking whip cream off of the arm of the couch just because he was too tired to get a plate and didn’t want to get his hands covered in whip cream, that part was ready to fucking murder something. 

Not to mention that stumbling across that scene had done Bucky no favors. He had been frozen solid watching Steve lick slowly at the mound of white fluff for a solid five minutes before he realized what the fuck was happening.

Luckily, rage and irritation did wonders for repressing his libido. 

“Hey there, Steve,” Sam called from the other room. “How’s it goooOH MY GOD, really Steve? _Really_?”

Bucky took a deep breath and tried not to grind his teeth. Sam must have just walked in and seen the other thing that was driving Bucky to distraction. He steeled himself, grabbed the bag of trash he’d been collecting, and made his way into the living room. 

Sam was standing with his jaw dropped and eyes wide, taking in all of Steve’s gloriously naked form on the couch. 

“What?” Steve asked innocently.

_Deep breaths_ , Bucky thought to himself. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to not think about killing Sam for taking a good long look. Then he had to remember not to take a good long look himself. 

“I know you two are close friends and all, and maybe things were different back in the 40’s, but dude. Pants. Please put on some pants. Or a blanket.” By this time Sam was studiously looking at the TV, take out bags held in front of him like a ward. 

“I keep trying,” Bucky said with a sigh. He walked around the couch and dragged the couch throw blanket back over Steve’s lap, confident that Steve would be too lazy to move it for at least the next fifteen minutes. 

“Pants are a tool of the oppressor, Sam.” Steve looked perfectly serious. Anyone else might have been fooled, but Bucky had known Steve since he was a sneaky little bastard with light fingers. He could smell a rat. 

“You’re not serious,” Sam said flatly. “Are you? I mean, yeah, clothing kinda is a way people have kept up class divides, but---”

“He’s fucking with you.” Bucky grabbed a wet wipe from the stack of them on the end table and proceeded to attempt to get the latest collection of food debris off of Steve’s mouth.

“Hey! Buck. Bucky! Stop! Buck--- I mean it!” Despite all of the protests, Steve only put up a token resistance. 

“Like a fucking child, I swear to god,” Bucky grumbled as he walked off, grabbing the take out bags from Sam and setting up them at the table. “If you could wipe your own damn face, you would, so until then I will do it for you _whether you like it or not_.” That last was said at a yell. He pointedly didn’t look at Sam, sure in the knowledge that he was probably laughing at them. 

Deep breaths. This isn’t Steve’s fault. It’s the spell. 

“Seriously though, Steve. Really?” Sam’s voice was equal parts dry and amused.

“There was this thing on youtube. Looked kinda cool, so I kept watching. And did you know that youtube has an auto play option? You just…click something and then it’ll just keep going! You don’t even have to touch anything!”

This was how Bucky had found Steve at four am last night, watching endless rounds of cat videos. That was still better than the night before, when Steve had gotten up in the middle of the night and started watching a news comedy skit. Apparently that led to five hours of news parodies. 

One would think that being afflicted with Sloth meant that Steve would be sleeping the whole night through. Seems that all it really meant was that he slept on and off throughout the day, only to be restless at night. He always waited for Bucky to be asleep before he wandered off. 

The first few times he did this, Bucky ignored him. Steve wouldn’t go far, probably _couldn’t_ go far, and Bucky had needed the rest after cleaning endlessly all day. But the five hour news stint had gotten Steve so upset that now when he got up at night, Bucky got up with him. Losing a little sleep was definitely better than seeing Steve get all bent out of shape over injustice, but unable to do anything about it. 

Bucky finished setting the table. He made sure to leave out a lot of extra napkins. “Dinner time, Steve. Get your ass up if you can and get over here so we can eat.”

“Why even bother, dude?” Sam asked. “Is it really worth the effort to get him to the table?”

“YES! You tell him, Sam!” Steve said excitedly from the couch. His momentum carried him just far enough to raise a fist in celebration, but then he sank back down into the cushions. 

“Have you seen him fucking eat?! I can at least put a goddamn drop cloth under the table and I am _not_ cleaning up more sauce from the couch cushions. Especially since SOMEONE won’t move off of them for me while I’m cleaning it up! Like a fucking zoo in here, swear to god.” Bucky rubbed his hand over his eyes and debated about seeing if Stark had some super soldier aspirin somewhere. 

Both Steve and Sam started chuckling, though Bucky’s glare cowed Sam into silence. 

After a moment, Steve’s laughter dropped off too. A few seconds of uncomfortable silence passed and then Steve asked, almost timidly. “Um…Bucky? Could you, uh. Help me to the table?” Bucky could see him grab his hair in frustration and he growled a bit. “I’m sorry. I really am. It’s just. I’m really fucking tired.”

All the anger and frustration melted away and Bucky dropped his head to stare at the floor. His heart bled a little. None of this was Steve’s fault. He couldn’t help it. Wouldn’t put Bucky through all this if he had a choice. 

“Sure, pal. Anything you need.”

He went over and helped Steve up to standing, pulling an arm over his shoulder and tucking in the blanket around his waist. Steve sighed miserably. “I’m sorry, Buck. I hate this. I’m such a miserable piece of---”

“Hey,” Bucky interrupted. “None of that. This is just a bit of a rough spell. You’ll be right as rain soon enough. Now come on. Let’s get some dinner.”

Steve hung his head and nodded, and they made their way over to the table. Before they could sit down though, Steve tugged at Bucky’s shirt.

“I. Um. Could you.” He winced and heaved a big sigh. 

Understanding dawned on Bucky. “Need to hit the restroom?” Steve nodded. “No problem. Let’s go do that now. But seriously, Rogers, I ain’t holding your dick for you. That’s on you.”

Steve looked up at Bucky, a sly smile on his face. “You sure, Bucky? I’d let you hold my dick any day.”

Bucky almost fucking dropped him on the ground.

What the hell.

“Wait, _what_?” His whole brain crashed and burned under that statement. 

Sam snorted next to them. “Seriously, Steve? That’s how you wanna come out to your best friend? With that line?”

Bucky floundered, jaw agape. 

“Eh. Seemed like a lot of work to keep it under wraps, you know? Lot easier just to say something.” Steve shrugged. 

There were words Bucky wanted to say. Somewhere. But nothing came out. He couldn’t even fucking breath. _What the fuck just happened_?

“Dude. Are you actually telling me that you’re too lazy to pine?” Sam looked both appalled and impressed. 

Steve just shrugged again, and then looked at Bucky. “Well?” It was said casually, but Bucky could hear the thread of fear in the statement. Could see the anxiety that couldn’t quite twist up Steve’s frame, despite its best efforts. 

Bucky panicked. 

He shoved Steve at Sam and was down the hall and out of the apartment in seconds. The last thing he heard before the door shut behind him was Steve say, “Well, fuck. He left before I could use the bathroom, too.”

\--

What Bucky really wanted right that second was the ability to get well and truly plastered. So fucking drunk that he wouldn’t have to think about any of this for at least another twelve hours. 

Since that wasn’t an option, he found himself up on the roof of the building. A tiny voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Sam said he was sulking. 

Which, okay, maybe a little bit. But mostly he was still freaking the fuck out because Steve straight up admitted that he wanted Bucky to touch his dick. _Offered_ even. To be honest, Bucky didn’t really know how to cope with that. 

Steve had never given any indication that he wanted more than just friendship. But, then again, Bucky hadn’t either, and he’d been pining after Steve for as long as…well, as long as his broken memory could supply him with memories. Considering how hit or miss his memories were, that wasn’t much of a reassurance. 

But he could only mentally flail and panic for so long before the cold clarity of the Winter Soldier fell over him. He could approach this like a mission, like everything else. So Steve wanted him. Or, at least, wanted him enough that he was willing to flirt while he was out of his mind on some kind of crazy magic spell. It was without question that Bucky wanted him back.

He just wasn’t sure if they _should_ be involved like that. Bucky was, putting things kindly, a fucking disaster. As much as he wanted to touch and be touched by Steve, he knew that he might not ever be capable of gentle things again. In his darker moments, he was certain he didn’t deserve gentle things either. 

But Steve. Oh, he’d give Steve anything. Hope and longing strained inside of him, painful like a muscle stretching against a broken bone. 

Only about a half an hour had passed before Bucky was making his way back down to their floor. He’d figure out what Steve really wanted and felt now, before it could all fall under a steel wall of good intentioned repression. 

Bucky considered that this was probably taking unfair advantage, but the fact of the matter was that Steve opened the door with that cheesy pickup line. Even if Bucky never brought up another word about it, he knew Steve. That stubborn punk wouldn’t be able to let it rest. 

By the time he walked into their living room, Steve was already reinstalled onto the couch, his messy blond head the only thing sticking out of a super soldier sized blanket burrito. 

Sam’s eyes widened at the look on his face. “Annnnnd that’s my cue to go see where we’re at with that magician. Good luck guys! Remember your ‘I’ statements! Use protection!” With that, he beat a hasty retreat. 

Steve watched Bucky’s cautious approach. A sad little smile was on his face. “Hey, Buck.”

“Hey, Stevie.”

Bucky sat down. The silence stretched for minute. Steve’s smile got a little sadder. “I’m really sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean to, to make you uncomfortable. I won’t…” He licked his lips. “I’m sorry. I won’t let it happen again.”

Fuck.

Because of course Steve thought that Bucky didn’t want him. 

“You idiot,” Bucky said. When Steve hunched over, hurt, Bucky winced. “No. Not you. Me. I was talking to me. I’m the idiot. I. Fuck, Steve. I shouldn’t have run off like that. It was really shitty of me.”

“It’s fine, Buck---” 

“No. Listen,” he interrupted. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” Steve’s eyebrows rose a little in confusion, but he didn’t look quite so sad, so Bucky counted it as a win. “I’m not good at this shit anymore, Steve. Maybe I never was. But I…” He took a deep breath and glanced around the room. Anywhere but Steve’s face. Fucking fuck. No more putting it off. He looked Steve square in the eyes. “Steve. I’d love to hold your dick for you.”

Steve blinked at him, once, slowly. Then again. His eyebrows rose even higher and he pursed his lips together. The edges of the blankets rose up to cover his mouth as he hunched up his shoulders, clearly trying to hold laughter in.

Fuck. Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shit. No. That’s. That’s not how I wanted to say that. God damn it.” Quiet snickers erupted from Steve’s blanket burrito. Bucky just took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. 

Once the snickering and giggling died out, Bucky hazarded a glace up to Steve’s face. There was a fond little smile on his beautiful plump lips and his cheeks were rosy from good cheer. 

He was so fucking beautiful it hurt. Everything Bucky had ever wanted distilled into a single being. 

“You could hold it right now.” Steve grinned at him and wiggled his eyebrows. 

And like that, the moment was gone. 

“You are such a dick, you fucking punk,” Bucky said with a laugh and a shake of his head.

“Jerk.” Steve just smiled wider at him for a moment, but then his expression sobered. “But seriously, Bucky. I want you in whatever way you’ll have me. If that means we’re best friends for the rest of our lives, I’ll be happy with that. If you’re willing to do more, I’d like to try.”

Bucky mulled that around for a moment until he finally found the words that were festering inside of him. “But what if this is just the spell talking?”

“Bucky.” Steve rolled his eyes. “I’ve always wanted you. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe the spell just made me realize how much effort I was putting in to never showing you. It all seems like such a waste now, you know? All the hiding. Especially from each other.”

Words withered in Bucky’s throat as he considered this. Steve always wanted him. Jesus fuck, they’d both been such idiots. He reminded himself to breathe. “Yeah.” Deep breath. In. Out. His throat clicked dryly as he tried to swallow and he closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see the look on Steve’s face when he said this. “I. I don’t know if I can. Be close to you. Touch wise. After everything with Hydra.”

There was a long pause. 

“Do you want to?” Steve asked quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I really do.”

He felt a hand brush against his cheek, and when he opened his eyes, Steve’s glorious smile answered him. “Then we can try. Take our time with it all. And Bucky. However much or however little you want to do is fine with me. You get to say how far we go.”

Bright warm happiness bubbled up inside of Bucky, so new and strange that he almost didn’t realize what it was. 

“Steve. Can I kiss you?” 

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice had gone hoarse. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

The moment their lips touched, it was magic. Soft and sweet, gentle at first but quickly becoming deep and sharp. Eventually they broke away gasping and laughing.

Steve unfolded the blankets around him and grabbed Bucky, pulling him tight against his body and wrapping the blankets all around them both. He shifted a bit, situating them so that Bucky was laying flat on top of Steve with both of them sprawled across the couch. Suddenly Bucky realized that he was spread out across all that beautiful bare skin, and a low moan punched out of him.

“Mmmmm. Much better.” Steve’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes a little wide. 

“Looks like you got me where you want me,” Bucky said. He leaned in and breathed up Steve’s neck, just a hair away from tasting the salty skin there. “More. Please?”

The look that crossed Steve’s face was a mix of frustration and confusion. He opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then said, “I think I want to just lay here. But that’s not right, because I really want to fuck you into a wall. But I’m probably just gonna lay here.”

Bucky dropped his head onto Steve’s chest. 

The spell. Of fucking course. 

“…You know…” Steve’s voice had a hit of speculation it in.

“No, Steve.” Bucky didn’t even look up. He knew what Steve was thinking. 

“I mean, you’re plenty strong…”

“No.”

“Just because I _can’t_ really, uh, get into things…”

“No. No I’m not fucking you into a wall because you’re too goddamn lazy to put forth the effort _to have sex with me_.”

“But, it’s the spell!” Bucky risked a look up to Steve’s face. As expected, there was a cherubic innocence to the smile there. “I’d be a very good boy for you.”

That statement alone made Bucky groan and twitch his hips into Steve. He took another deep breath and settled himself. 

“Steve…”

The innocent smile on Steve’s face softened. “Sorry. I just. I wish I could do more than I can, I guess. Even just this is good. We’ve waited this long for anything more. We can wait a bit longer.”

Relief filled him and he grinned. “Yeah.”

A worry line wrinkled across Steve’s forehead. “Do you want to keep doing this? The cuddling? I mean, I’d like to. And it would be awfully nice if we didn’t have to move…”

Bucky laughed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sweetheart. We don’t have to move.” 

Steve grinned and held Bucky close, breath tickling along Bucky’s scalp. That warm bubbly feeling filled Bucky up to the brim. He fell asleep with a smile on his face and to the sound of Steve’s heartbeat in his ear. 

\--

Six days after the Sloth spell was cast on Steve, the magician who cast it woke up. 

Natasha look critically at his wrecked form where he lay in the local Shield prison medical ward. The magician had several broken bones, a concussion, two puncture wounds courtesy of Clint’s arrows, and a great deal of bruising. 

She made sure that the first thing he saw when he woke up was her smiling at him. Clint was there for moral support, but he was just there to watch. They both knew interrogations were her show. 

“Oh shit,” was the first thing out of the magician’s mouth. Natasha smiled wider. He shifted backwards in his bed, and then realized he couldn’t shift backwards without severely hurting himself. It was kind of hilarious to watch him try not to flail. Eventually he settled and gave another, more resigned, “Oh shit.”

“Tell me about magic,” Natasha said. 

He blinked at her, and glared. “It is beyond your ability to grasp. Your tiny mind cannot---” Natasha fired up her Widow’s Bite bracelet. “SHIT, I donno dudes, I just found a book at a junk store and read some stuff out of it. Don’t taze me, bro.” His eyes widened and he pursed his lips. 

Clint smothered a snicker under one hand. Natasha held back a wince. That…that didn’t bode well. 

She didn’t let it interfere with the interrogation though.

“Where can I get this book?” Natasha smiled sweetly. “Tell me what I need to know and we’ll be out of your hair. No muss, no fuss.”

The magician’s brow crinkled in annoyance, or as much as it could with all the bruising. “Ironman blew it the fuck up with his blaster things.”

“Are their copies?”

The annoyance deepened. “I mean, maybe? But hell if I know where to get one. Thing was hand written. I found it in a stack of fantasy novels and old school journals.”

Chasing down old books wasn’t really her specialty. They might have to call in Strange for this, or maybe one of the other local casters. Natasha was hoping to avoid that. Every single one of them was generally more trouble than they were worth to work with.

Time for a change of tactic. 

“You were casting curses.”

“Yeah?”

“How do we break them?”

The magician looked nervously to the side for a moment. He was about to lie. “Um. True love’s kiss.”

Doubtful. As far as she knew, Barnes and Steve had been making out like teenagers for the past three days, in between bouts of Barnes screaming in frustration. If those two weren’t True Love, it didn’t exist.

“Try again.” Natasha fired up the electricity on her bracelet.

“Shit. Um. I mean. The cursed person has to sit in a magic circle and let pure blessed water flow over them for nine hours.” More blinking. Shifty eye movements. Rapid heart rate.

More lies.

She pouted at him and sat on the edge of his bed.

“Please tell me?”

He gulped, hard. 

“Go to the place where the curse was cast, spin in place counter clockwise three times, and say the words of the curse in reverse.” He was sweating now, practically panting with fear. 

“Dude,” Clint said. “We’re talking about magic, not how you get rid of bad luck from saying Macbeth in a theater.”

Natasha smiled, slow and sweet, and let him see her teeth. 

He shrank into himself. “You just have to try really hard and believe in yourself?” he said very timidly.

Just as Natasha was reaching out to touch him, he broke.

“Fuck! I don’t know, I don’t know! Okay! I swear! Just back off!” He tried to wriggle away from her, but the various casts, bandages, and tubes stalled his efforts. 

“How do you not know?” Natasha dropped the smile. “Isn’t that something your book would say?” 

She hoped.

“Look lady, I could barely read the damn thing. I took a couple of the more repeated words out of there, sounded them out, and just sort of…added stuff. Google translated some Latin to make it sound cool. I swear. I didn’t even try to do anything deadly. I just wanted a quick payday and this was my way to get there, you know?”

His eyes held steady, if overly wide. Heart was steady. Slumped frame. There was some sweating and trembling, but that could be fear attributed. 

Probably telling the truth, then. Depressingly, it also fit with the rest of this guy’s personality and general MO. 

Fuck. 

She mulled the problem over as they headed back to the tower. 

“Detour,” she said to Clint.

“Where to?” He turned towards the direction she was pointing.

“Liquor store. We need vodka.”

Clint furrowed his brow. “Why? Is blessed alcohol a thing? Would that even work in this case? And who would we get to bless it?”

Natasha sighed.

“It’s not for Steve. It’s for Bucky. He’s is gonna wanna get plastered after he hears the news. I consider it first aid.” 

Clint laughed and kept driving.

\--

“The fuck do you mean he doesn’t know how to take the curse off?!” 

Bucky clenched his fists on the dinner table and barely contained the urge to stab something. 

The rest of the Avengers sat around the table, with Steve on his right. Large bowls of pasta were being passed around, courtesy of Tony’s favorite Italian place. Every time one came near Bucky, he added a few spoonfuls of food to both his and Steve’s plate. Steve mostly just sat there, leaning on one arm and nearly falling asleep into his dish. 

“Guy was a total idiot,” Clint said in between bites. “Seems he found some book and just…slapped together random shit from the internet.”

“You’re fucking with me.” Bucky gripped his fork so hard that it started to crumple. He wasn’t even holding it in his metal hand.

Natasha shrugged with one shoulder. “It fits, given what we know.”

His eyes burned with frustration and he ground his teeth. 

The last few days had been both amazing and _extremely frustrating_. Because while he and Steve had got their heads out of their asses and started to physically get a little closer, Steve was still a lazy fucking slob and it was driving Bucky nuts. 

Not only that, but Steve seemed to be doing his level best to drive Bucky to distraction with all the flirting. 

Take right now for example. Steve wanted to join everyone for dinner, but didn’t actually want to get dressed. One sad look with big watery eyes later, and Bucky was attempting to shove a non-compliant Steve into a pair of sweat pants. It worked. Eventually. But the process had been memorable to say the least.

“So now what?” Steve asked. He absently poked at his plate with a fork.

“Now we look into other avenues. Local specialists,” Natasha said.

“Quacks and charlatans,” Tony added with a grimace. 

“ _Specialists_.” Natasha looked pointedly at him, and passed Bucky another bottle of vodka. 

There were already three empty ones at Bucky’s feet. Turns out his shitty knock off Nazi serum was just good enough to keep him from getting drunk. So far anyways. With a nod to Natasha, he poured himself another pint glass and held out hope for the future. 

“Steve. Eat.” Bucky poked at Steve’s side. 

“Uggg. I want to. I do. But...I could just sit here, too. Sitting here is good. The food’ll be there later.” He heaved a big sigh. Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose and then downed his glass of booze. “Although…Hey, Bucky! You know, you could hand feed me.” Steve’s eyes twinkled hopefully.

“No.”

“But the internet says it’s romantic!” Steve grinned widely. It was the grin of con men everywhere. 

“No. It’s not romantic if the person getting fed is just too fucking lazy to pick up a fork and eat.” Bucky refilled his glass and thought of sending Natasha a gift basket. Maybe with grenades. She’d probably like that. That’s what he’d want if he was getting a gift basket, and how different could Natasha be?

Steve pouted into his plate. 

“What I don’t get, is why you two aren’t fucking like bunnies,” Tony said, eyebrows raised. Groans erupted all around the table. “Seriously! You two swap more spit than a free testing clinic. What’s the hold up?”

Before Steve could say anything awful, and he was opening his mouth to do just that, Bucky interrupted with, “First, because I’m not okay with doing anything serious when Steve is all messed in the head---”

“Buck, it’s not that bad,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes.

“Says the guy who got rolled here in an office chair because he was too lazy to walk! Second of all...a fella likes to have his partner be a little more involved…” Bucky pushed some food around on his plate and tried not to look at anyone. He was probably frowning, but fuck it. Frowning was better than sulking, and right now all he really wanted to do was sulk. Sulk and drink.

That wasn’t true. What he _really_ wanted to do was toss Steve into bed and suck his dick. Hell, he was pretty sure Steve wanted the same damn thing, too. Unfortunately, Steve could barely stay awake during their make out sessions. Bucky didn’t want to face the hit to his ego if Steve managed to pass out mid- blow job. 

Snickers erupted from around the table, making Bucky just frown harder. 

“It’s fine, Buck. We’ll get to it.” Steve yawned. “Maybe later. Although, I can certainly offer easy access.” He waggled his eyebrows. 

“Ugggg, man, no one wants to hear that.” Sam tossed a balled up napkin at Steve’s face. Steve didn’t even bother trying to dodge. 

Something was fishy about what Steve said. Bucky narrowed his eyes, taking in the oh-so-innocent look on Steve’s face. 

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Bucky said finally.

“What?” Steve looked baffled. It was almost convincing. Almost. 

“The no pants. And the constant stripping. And the trips to the bathroom. All the whip cream. You fucker, you’re _deliberately_ trying to get me to jump you.” Bucky poked a finger into Steve’s chest. 

“Well, obviously.” Steve rolled his eyes. “I mean, it is a lot of work to put on pants, but there are additional benefits. Might as well multitask. Master tactician, remember?”

At the point, the rest of the Avengers weren’t even bothering to contain their laughter. Fucking great. Because this day couldn’t get any better.

“I’m not sure this is what the US Army had in mind for the results of Project Rebirth,” Clint said with a smirk. 

Steve’s back straightened and he glared across the table, eyes sweeping up everyone present. “I don’t give a shit. I did everything they asked. I sold bonds. I fought. I _died_. Everyone I loved _died_. Bucky was hurt and taken and tortured. I was frozen and then brought back and then I fought some more. Years and years without end, for both of us.” He slammed his fist down on the table top, making everyone jump. “We’ve both paid our dues. We deserve a little happiness. And if that happiness means I spend all of my spell-enforced free time trying to convince Bucky to fuck me to unconsciousness, well so be it. Happy curse vacation for me.”

There was a moment of silence and then, bizarrely, everyone started grinning. 

“Well said, Captain!” Thor beamed at them.

“’Bout damn time, dude.” Sam clapped Steve on the shoulder. Natasha and Clint just nodded along.

“Jarvis, did you get that on tape? I want that on tape next time Captain Tight Pants decides that he needs to be a martyr.” Tony winked at him and tapped his fingers happily on the table top.

Whatever energy had sustained Steve for that moment quickly drained out of him. He slumped over sideways onto the table, head pillowed by one arm. “Uggggg. Talking is hard. Sleeping is better.”

Bucky stared at Steve a moment, his mind running over what was just said. Interesting. Then he looked at the rest of the Avengers and shook his head them. “You’re all crazy.” More jeers and giggles. Bucky rolled his eyes and ate a bite of tortellini. 

Steve pouted towards his plate, just inches away from his face. He strained his neck forward and made little chomping motions with his jaw. Clearly he was trying, and failing, to get close enough to the pasta on his plate to get a bite. This effort only lasted a few moments. Then he heaved another massive sigh and made the saddest, grumpiest face Bucky had ever seen. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky said under his breath. This time he didn’t even bother with the pint glass, he just guzzled straight from the vodka bottle. Then he picked up a fork, filled it with food, and held it to Steve’s face. “Open up, punk.”

The pure happiness on Steve’s face almost made up for how much they were being laughed at.

\--

By the tenth day, Bucky was really starting to worry. Steve had started sleeping progressively more and more every day, to the point where he barely got out of bed. He’d eat if Bucky forced him to, but other than that he seemed to have decided it was too much work.

Bruce assured him that the serum would keep Steve hale and healthy, even with the small number of calories he was taking in. A few days of short rations wouldn’t hurt him at all. But what happened when days turned into weeks? Would Steve end up just…wasting away in bed? 

It was only the combined efforts of Sam, Natasha, and Clint that had kept Bucky from breaking into that Shield facility and taking his anxieties out on that piece of shit magician. 

The whole team had taken to stopping by from time to time. They said it was to keep Steve company, but Bucky suspected it was also to keep Bucky’s spirits up. Or try and prevent him from going on a murder spree. Either way, it was kind of them and Bucky appreciated it immensely. 

On the bright side of things, Steve had stopped making at utter mess of everything he came close to. Bucky worried that it was because it was finally too much effort for Steve to try to do things on his own. Earlier in the week he could see Steve trying to be his normal self. He’d try to get food, but then decide that plates and reheating and even silverware was too much work. He’d attempt to get himself dressed, but only end up sitting with a pile of clothes on the floor, nodding off.

Now, though…now he didn’t even bother. Steve just endlessly slept, twenty hours out of twenty-four. Bucky woke him to eat and make trips to the restroom. He’d get Steve up in the morning and carry him out to the couch so that Steve could fall asleep in front of the TV there. Then at night he’d carry Steve into a bath and sponge him off while Steve dozed. 

Even the ridiculous flirting had dropped off, which was both a relief and a disappointment. Despite that, Bucky was inordinately pleased that Steve still dragged him close to cuddle every chance he could get. Spending all of his time wrapped around a sleepy naked Steve was difficult for Bucky’s self control, but at least he didn’t have to put up with dick jokes while doing it.

In the mean time, Bucky tried to ease up on the constant bitching. He couldn’t bear it, not when Steve wasn’t even trying to move around anymore. The lack of shit all over the place helped sweeten his temper, too, if he was being honest with himself. 

Now there was only sweet cajoling. It tickled memory fragments in the back of Bucky’s mind. Bits from a long ago time where a much smaller, much sicker Steve was laid up in bed, sweating and burning with fever. 

Every time Bucky looked a little too anxious, Steve would just smile up at him and say, “I’m fine, Buck. You don’t gotta fret. I just need to catch up on a little sleep. Don’t worry about me.”

Or,

“Relax, Bucky. Just take a nap with me. You don’t need to do any more cleaning, everything is fine. I’ll get to it when I get up next.”

Or,

“Nah, you don’t need to make me anything to eat. I’m alright, just sleepy. I’m just gonna nap for a little while longer.”

On one hand, that sounded a hell of a lot more like the Steve that Bucky knew, a familiarity that was burned so deep into his bones that not even the Chair could wipe it out completely. On the other hand, the drastic reduction in energy output was disheartening. 

By the time Natasha called Bucky with news, he was already surfing the internet, looking for anything that didn’t sound like total bullshit.

“Hey. Make sure Steve has pants on. I finally found Dr. Strange and we’re on our way over.” There was this weird interference on the phone line, almost like she was talking off the side of a speeding train.

“Oh thank fuck,” Bucky said. “Because I’ve been seriously considering buying twenty pounds of dried sage and juniper and smoking us all out. Do you even know how much a blessed anti-curse candle costs? It’s fucking ridiculous. Fucking robbery, is what it is.”

He hung up before she could stop laughing. 

Sure enough, not more than ten minutes later a golden circle of energy spun into existence in front of them in the living room. It quickly expanded into a large circular doorway. Based on the color of the trees and the rain, Bucky guessed they were portaling in from the Pacific North West. As soon as Strange, Natasha, and Clint were through the portal, it spun out of existence behind them.

Since Strange was there to help, Bucky refrained from making some pointed commentary on the man’s gloves. The cape, Bucky understood. Sorcerers wore capes. That made sense. But the giant yellow leather dish gloves? What the fuck.

Strange walked right over to where Steve was wrapped up on the couch, blinking groggily. 

“How are you feeling, Captain?” Strange asked. Without waiting for a response, he carefully took hold of Steve’s head and moved it around, looking at Steve’s eyes, mouth, and ears. He felt around briefly on the underside of Steve’s throat and then gave the air a quick sniff.

Huh. Straight to the point. Bucky heard he was a doctor. Based on his stellar bedside manner, Bucky suspected he was an actual medical doctor rather than a PhD in something esoteric. 

Fucking doctors.

“Tired, but fine,” Steve said. “Really, Doctor. I appreciate you coming out to help, but there’s nothing wrong with---”

Bucky snorted loudly. _Nothing wrong, my ass._

“Tired, yes.” Strange lifted Steve’s eye lids one at a time and looked very closely into each eye. “How tired?”

“Tired, like he just spent the last several days sleeping twenty hours a day,” Bucky said acidly. 

Fuck. He shouldn’t have snapped. Strange was just trying to help. Bucky didn’t want to admit it, but the worry was eating at him. It made him want to snap and snarl. Although, he was honest enough with himself to realize that was probably overly charitable to suggest that he had a sweet temperament before Steve got hit with the curse. 

Happily, Strange just ignored the attitude and kept on looking around Steve’s head. 

“Emotionally, how do you feel?” Strange asked.

“…Drained, I guess.” An unhappy frown pulled at Steve’s lips and he couldn’t meet Strange’s eyes.

“Drained, huh.” Strange’s voice was flat and his eyebrows furrowed together. He straightened up and crossed his arms and stared at Steve. Silence stretched on for a couple of minutes while Strange hummed to himself. 

Steve nodded, cheeks coloring a little. “All I want to do is sleep.”

“Huh. Well you’re not cursed,” Strange said cheerfully.

Bucky blinked. 

“What.” It wasn’t even really a question, more just a fundamental expression of Bucky’s inability to comprehend. 

Before his rage could properly manifest, Strange jumped in with, “Well, he certainly was cursed. There are signs of really shoddy spell work all around him. Seems like he broke it himself though. Three? Maybe three and a half days ago, based on the residual energy.”

Murderous rampage suddenly averted, Bucky was left more confused than anything. From the look on Steve’s face, he was just as befuddled. 

“How?” Steve asked. 

“You tell me,” Strange said with a shrug. “What changed in the past four days?”

“The dinner,” Clint said. “We had a group dinner.”

Steve raised his eyebrows in surprise, but then nodded. “Yeah. After dinner, all I could think about was what we talked about. How much I’ve done. All the work and the losses. It was all worth it! It was! But…I was just suddenly…so, so tired of it all. And, well, I guess I figured that if this curse was forcing me to rest, maybe it was a good time to actually take a real break. Really try to get rest, you know? The Avengers had the world covered. Bucky was here with me and safe. There wasn’t anything else that needed to be done. So I just kinda…went with it.” He cast a worried look at Bucky. “But I swear, Buck, I didn’t realize I wasn’t---that I didn’t _have_ to sleep any more. It all still felt the same to me. I wouldn’t have made you worry on purpose, I swear.”

Just like that, all the residual annoyance flowed right out of Bucky. He shook his head at Steve, a tiny smile twisting on his lips. “I know, punk.” The smile dropped off and he raised a single unimpressed eyebrow. “You would have had me worried as hell over other, stupider things. Like jumping out of airplanes with no parachute.”

Bright red bloomed on Steve’s cheeks and something between a smile and a wince crossed his features.

“That was it then,” Strange said. “The harder you worked against the curse, the stronger it was. The moment you gave it to it, it disappeared. But!” He pointed at Steve sternly. “Based on everything you’ve just said, you, Captain, are in need of some recuperation time. My opinion as a medical professional is that you’re overworked, at the very least. I’m recommending another three weeks bed rest and six weeks light, relaxing, pleasurable activity only. Also, you might want to consider talking to someone, too.”

While Natasha and Clint started in on the ‘thank you’s and gently ushered Strange out of the room, Bucky moved over to wrap and arm around Steve. They sat there for a few minutes, finding their words. Waiting for the audience to leave. 

Bucky was sure that as soon as the rest of the team heard the news, they’d both get teased mercilessly. Oddly enough, he didn’t even mind. The last week and a half had forged an easy camaraderie between them. It was something that Bucky never expected to have again.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky.” Steve hung his head, blankets pulled up to his ears. Considering he was still wrapped up in his blanket burrito, it made him sort of look like the saddest caterpillar ever. “This has just been…I just. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to be a burden.”

“No. None of that.” Bucky squeezed Steve a little closer, tucking Steve’s head under his chin. “It ain’t nothing I haven’t done before, and wouldn’t do again.”

“Buck…”

“Nah, remember what we said way back when? You and me, pal. We’re a team. That means good times and bad.”

There was a suspicious sniff from under all those blankets. Since Bucky’s eyes were inexplicably watery too, he let it slide. 

“’Til the end of the line.”

“Yeah.”

They sat huddled together for a while longer. 

“Although you know…” Bucky said eventually, voice taking on a speculative tone. 

Steve looked up warily at him. “Yeah?”

“I think I’ve got some ideas on how to keep you in bed.” The grin that spread across Bucky’s face was all teeth and promise. 

“Is that so?” Steve tried out his innocent look again, but it was totally ruined by the smirk pulling at the edges of his lips.

“Jarvis?”

“Yes, Sergeant?” The AI’s voice was pleasant, as usual.

“No visitors for a couple days. And order us more lube.”

“Of course, Sergeant.”

Turns out, they didn’t make it to the bed. Not for several more hours.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading ;)


End file.
